


John Watson deals with Sherlock and Sherrinford, the Holmes Twins

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, BAMF Mrs. Hudson, M/M, Sherrinford and Sherlock, The Case of the Lost Mind, The Holmes Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-06-09 16:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15271158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: Dr. John Watson is a World Citizen. Mycroft asks a personal favor. The Holmes twins are on a case and become a case. AU where John meets the Holmes twins; Sherlock and Sherrinford. Mayhem and meddlesome misunderstandings ensue. And it’s a toss-up on who gets John in the end. Did I say that right???  Here you go Dear Readers. Two Holmes and one Watson. Let's all watch the train wreck! Yes!





	1. The Case of the Missing Mind

Dr. John Hamish Watson, world renown humanitarian, became Major – General Watson, highly decorated combat veteran of the Great War. Severely wounded saving both civilians and the multi – national combat forces under his command; he is awarded the Victoria Cross for his valor. He is the only man to decline the Director of the World position out of the United Nations. Going on to win the Nobel Peace Award for his negotiation skills in demanding the outlawing of all wars worldwide. Dr John, as the world calls him, is considered the preeminent World Citizen.

(-_-)

It is early morning as John reviews his calendar when he notices that his 7:30 am has been rescheduled as one Mycroft Holmes has taken the spot intended for the President of the United States.

John rang his personal secretary to bring in some Earl Grey with dark chocolate almond biscuits; Mycroft’s favorites. Mycroft is escorted into his office, the usual pleasantries are exchanged. Once they have settled in with their tea Mycroft begins.

“I’m sorry to have to interfere with your normal schedule, John.”

John smiles. He and Mycroft have had dealings with each other in the past.

“Not a problem, Mycroft. What can I do for the British Government this time?”

Mycroft exhales a deep breath. “Actually, John, I’m here to ask a personal favor.”

John straightens up a bit. Looking at Mycroft with renewed interest. 

“Go on.”

“It concerns my twin brothers. They have a behavioral issue. I’d like to know if you could review their histories and possibly give some assistance in diverting their dysfunction?”

John had never met William Scott Sherlock Holmes or his twin Daniel Thomas Sherrinford Holmes. They were in the media enough to get the gist of their problem. Bad boy genius’ like their brother Mycroft. They were great at breaking large international criminal consortium's, solving locked door murders, but when they were experiencing down time, they invariably turned to the use of, shall we say, ‘recreational drugs’ to wile away the time. 

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be taking to a doctor of rehabilitation?” John is a bit confused.

“In reality, they have been in and out of rehab since before they were teens. They are entirely too smart for their own good. They beat the system every time. I was wondering if you could add your formidable knowledge and experience to aid us in contending with their abhorrent behavior?”

“Leave their information with my personal secretary. I’ll see to the matter immediately.”

Signaling the end of this meeting, John stood and offered his hand in friendship. Mycroft smiled for the first time since he had entered the room. 

“I leave them in your good hands.” Mycroft turns and leaves.

Turning his intercom on. “Jeffers, could you down load the Holmes’ information into my personal computer and make sure that all information is encrypted to my personal codes. Thanks.”

(-_-)

John read the information. Mountains of it. Luckily for Mycroft, John has been a speed reader from his early teens. He reflected on the case. Sherlock and Ford as they preferred to be called were strange creatures. With off-the-chart intelligence, appearances that were exotically strange, yet enchantingly beautiful; they were slipper blokes indeed. Hard to incarcerate in any facility as they could literally talk or lock pic their way out of just about anywhere. Good at subterfuge, using their twin-ness to out wit many an opponent and even friends and family. 

John is rather impressed and astonished at such a waste of great brain power. These two men could be rather helpful in many difficult diplomatic areas, international situations, as well as providing assistance to the legal arm of the government. How to redirect their obvious intense intellectual browse into culturally and internationally more positive pursuits?

(-_-)

Sherlock and Ford stumble up the stairs to 221 B shoving each other conspiratorially, flashing toothy grins and glares at one another. Their last case lingers giving them a natural high. 

Mrs. Hudson rears out of her apartment. “Right, you boys have got to sort out this bit about who and what you are allowing into your apartment.” She sniffed rather dramatically, gave the ‘great good stare of death’ at them, then turned on her heel, marching into her apartment.

“Wonder what that was about?” Sherlock is in a quandary. 

“Unless?” Ford turns, taking two steps at a time into the flat. The door is open a crack and Ford toes it open completely. 

Inside the apartment, their two leather chairs flanking the fire place are pulled apart as an over stuffed red arm chair is situated between them. Suspended from the ceiling by fishing string are little spheres which appear to be surrogate planets in an odd, extravagant universe.

Sherlock comes in right behind Ford and immediately heads straight for the new furniture. Pulling out his hand magnifier, he looks at the chair, sniffing and peering at intensely. 

“Man. Sophisticated. Living a comfortable, yet complicated life.” Sherlock finds Ford plucking the spheres from their orbit with gloved hands. 

“Calling card?” Sherlock surmises.

“Definitely a puzzle. Someone’s hard pressed to get our undivided attention.” Ford has moved the ‘planets’ into a convenient shoe box.

Then the idea strikes both brothers at once, as one, they run down the stairs to knock politely at Mrs. H’s door. 

An irate and righteous Mrs. Hudson answers her door, standing tall and indefatigable. 

“Yesssss.” She snaps.

“Beg pardon, Mrs. H. Who was in our apartment? When did that happen?” Ford the eldest, by at least 2 minutes inquires.

“I’m not your personal secretary slash security guard. You are the genius’ figure it OUT!” A smug look on her face, she vanishes into her apartment, which smells of home made apple tarts, slamming the door in their faces. 

Sherlock knocks timidly.

“Apple tarts?” He coo’s with yearning hungry desire. They both adore fresh apple tarts. 

“Not on your life.” The answer comes through the door, loud and clear.

Both brothers sigh in dejected, abject sorrow. A missed treat.

“We’ll have to find some way to smooth the way with her. She could cut us off of all her baked goods. We’d surely starve.” Sherlock pulls his brother away and back up the stairs.

Upon entering the flat, Sherlock picks up the shoe box that has accumulated a vast amount of universe. 

“This is a size 8, neither of us is a size 8? Where did you find this shoe box?” Ford glares blankly at Sherlock in answer to his question.

“Okay, a murder board is going up.” Ford tears down all the past information on the current board and starts a new one.

(-_-)

Mrs. Hudson brings a plate of her famous apple tarts to her sitting room. John Watson is sipping his perfectly brewed tea. He considers Mrs. Hudson a national treasure, until he tastes the apple tarts. Then he is sure that she is much more than that. Maybe the world’s best unknown agent of culinary intrigue.

“Can’t you just withhold your services to help control the dynamic duo?” His long conversation with Mrs. Hudson has been very fruitful and enlightening.

“It only works for a brief time. They are so flighty, those boys. Off and out before I can drop a pin.”

“They seem to respect you though. Tough love?”

“No, my dear, real love. They are so starved for it. They look for it in every shadow; every hidey-hole. Poor babes.”

“Mrs. Hudson, I want to alter how they handle boredom. I want to use those brilliant minds to help this small island. Crikey, maybe even the world.

“I’ll help you in any way I can, John.” She smiles and John sees the stars align perfectly in that moment. He knows he’s found the perfect ally in this wise woman. 

(-_-)

They’ve figured out that they are looking for a male, slightly shorter than average in stature. A man who likes his comfort, but is honestly addicted to an energetic life style. A man who ‘wants’ them to find him. Strange that. Most people wanted to evade the Holmes’ brothers.

Ford is staring resolutely at the ‘murder board’. The shoe box gave more clues than anything else. 

“Maybe we need to look at this from a different direction.” Sherlock picks up his violin and begins a new piece that he and Ford are working on. 

Ford exhales, takes up his violin and enhances Sherlock’s melody. Back and forth they play with the notes. Feelings are not normally a part of their lives. Yet the music saturates the air, invariably bringing them to a level plane. A unified existence. In an instant they both stop. 

“Mycroft.” They utter together.

Placing their violins back in the matching cases. Looking at each other, their twin silent communications happening.

“We could ignore this whole matter.” Ford suggests.

“Or we could find the scallywag and give him what for?”

“Let’s go for plan B.” Ford grimaces in terrifying delight. 

(-_-)

John has started to delegate his normal avalanche of information to assimilate as well as the life and death decisions he usually makes on a daily basis to many of his highly trained associates. Everyone in his immediate orbit is surprised and thrilled. They all thought that he was doing too much to begin with and are glad that he is letting others help out.

Something about these Holmes’ brothers definitely has piqued John’s curiosity. He wants to follow them for a period of time. They are smart, but with the insight from Mrs. H. He felt he could work wonders where others had not.

(-_-)

They started with Mycroft. Investigating some of his more prominent acquaintances. Working their way through the miasma of the upper echelon of British government and civilian individuals. Then there were the international personalities and personages of prominence. It is going to take a while, but they were on track. Happiness is being hot on the trail of another puzzle.

(-_-)

Sherlock and Ford are in pursuit of killer with unique abilities. So far he had eluded capture and killed in outlandish fashion. The news media had dubbed him the ‘Puppet Master’. As he poses his victims from suspended wires in the ceilings of his kill sites. The Puppet Master is turning out to be one of the more difficult of their many nemesis’. He had to have massive amounts of time to ‘rig’ up his kill sites before he brought his victim in. Yet those sites were immaculate. Cleansed and scrubbed to within and inch of their existence.

Ford is careful to keep an eye on Sherlock. Of the two he is the more impetuous, fool hearty and prone not to care about his own mortality.

Sherlock is looking through the minutia of the last site of the Puppet’s past kill. As Ford scours his Mind Palace in search of any corresponding factoids that cross over into the four murders so far. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Exasperated, Ford looks to his twin brother, nose deep into a pile of rubble that hadn’t been shoveled up and taken away. 

“Anything?” Ford interrupts.

“Ah-ha!” Sherlock plucks something with the tweezers in his gloved hand. 

“Found the killer have you?” Ford teases. 

“Maybe the next best thing.” Sherlock stands proudly to display his find. “Where we can find him next.”

(-_-)

John is shadowing the audacious Holmes brothers. With the help of several special friends, who are in fact high level MI5 agents, he has learned to be quite competent in the game of espionage. He is finding Sherlock and Ford even more fascinating than their bone dry records. Their deducting abilities making even the tiniest evidence reveal vast amounts of information.

He’s concerned though that they have little to no regard for their personal safety. This Puppet Master that they are casting a net for is quite a nasty piece of work. So John begins to carry his Sig Sauer. Just in case, mind you. A bullet might be a quick solution for what ails the Puppet Master. Especially if he wants to meddle with the Holmes brothers.

(-_-) 

At home, John finds he is experiencing intense protective feelings towards Sherlock and Ford. He hasn’t even met them properly. Maybe he should arrange something? Hiding in plain site as a client maybe?

(-_-)

Mrs. Hudson is out and about. So when the door bell rings. Sherlock, whose turn it is to answer, trots down the stairs to let in their new client. John has emailed, stating that he has a case for the brothers to investigate for him, but not giving any real details.

The boys are terribly suspicious when they find out who Dr. John is. Not being social beings, they haven’t really bothered with the workings of the Real World outside their fixation on crime. So when they see his many governmental and international connections; his connection to Mycroft. Pieces start falling into place and they give each other those smug smiles of recognition. 

John comes in and is escorted to the big red stuffed chair that miraculously appeared in their flat some weeks ago. He sits down, settling in. Ford and Sherlock look intently at one another as a feeling of déjà vu shakes them both to their very core. It is purely evident, that this is John’s chair. The twins both sit back into their chairs; struck silent for a minute. Curious? 

Sherlock recovers first. Clearing his throat. “Dr. Watson, thank you for making time for us in your very busy schedule. You stated that you were interested in our services. We know that you are an acquaintance of our brother, Mycroft. We’d very much like to assist you in any way possible.”

Ford nods his agreement and all attention turns to Dr. John Watson. A smile curves his thin lips and his deep midnight blue eyes cast from one brother to the other. 

“Gentlemen, please call me John.” he begins. “I’ve heard that you are exceptional at finding things? I appear to have lost my mind and would greatly appreciate your help in finding my missing memories.” His smile widens as he views the brothers.

Ford and Sherlock give each other side eye glances.

“Can you be a bit more specific?” Ford asks straight faced. 

“Between the days of October 10th and 13th I was to have been at a meeting of world health leaders in Malta. I never made it there. No one can account for my whereabouts. I have no memory of what happened to me. I’ve had blood work done. I was not under the influence of any drug known at this time. I received no injury and showed up in my apartment on the evening of the 13th with no memory of what took place during that time period. I have consulted with the police and they have found no information that would lead them to believe it was foul play. Everyone is stumped.”

Both Sherlock and Ford sit back in their leather chairs. Their long slender hands steepled under their chins. The mirror image of the two brothers is heart stopping, startling. 

John is fascinated as he watches the brothers begin their process. 

Sitting forward they both exclaim, “We’ll take the case.”

“We will have to have access to you and your associates. To all the data and information that is involved in your daily life during that time period and possibly some time into the past.” Ford states matter-of-factly.

“Done.” John smiles.

(-_-)

The brothers show their gratitude to John for bringing them another baffling case as they escort him to the door. 

Ford closes the door. Gulping air like a landed fish, leaning against the closed door as Sherlock approaches him. Sherlock leans against the door with his right hand. The twins are eye to eye. The Holmes brothers feel a stuttering murmur in their hearts. Their twin thing can be very powerful at times. John is someone special. His presence matters to them. They know that their lives will never be the same.


	2. Losing Dr. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. John Watson is teasing the Holmes Twins. Sherrinford and Sherlock devise a plan. The plan goes tits up. Everyone loses Dr. John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I'm not British. So you will a plethora of American slang here. Sorry for that dear readers. Hope you still have a fun time with the story.

Sherlock and Ford stare at each other in the sitting room; their tea has cooled in cups as the liquid waited for the brothers to find themselves.

“It’s obviously a sham case to entice us.” Ford states humorlessly.

Sherlock begins strafing his fingers through his riotous curls. Ford knows this behavior is due to Sherlock’s dislike of dealing with emotions. Though he has to admit that he isn’t talented in that area either.

“Of course it’s a sham.” Sherlock glares at Ford. “What just happened there? I ‘felt’ something when he sat in the damn chair. Don’t deny it, you felt it too.”

Ford stares at the well worn rug at his feet. “Yeah, I felt it too. It was like I’ve…we’ve known him for a very long time. I have no idea what caused that. We’ve never even heard of him before today, have we?”

Communicating without words, Ford picks up his lap top from the floor and Sherlock budges his chair over. Careful not to move the now infamous red chair.

In tandem they scan the news feeds. The memes. The medals. The honors and the man who no one can say a bad word about. The world shouts out his courage, wisdom and strength of morals. No ordinary man, this John Watson. 

“Turning down the Director of the World position out of the United Nations. That takes some brass balls.” Sherlock finds something humorous and also arousing about this.

Having read articles, manuscripts and dissertations about him, they find that the day has gone on without them and it’s evening. 

“What do you want to do?” Ford knows what Sherlock is going to say, but has to ask for the sake of both their sanity's.

The twin thing can be over powering at times. It connects, but that connection can be too strong, blurring the barrier between one body and another. Almost as if there is one body, brain and soul; not two.

Their eyes meet, their minds converge. “He’s someone we’ve never encountered before.” Ford snaps his lap top shut. Standing he draws Sherlock close. “I think we need to do a some leg work on our Dr. John.”

“I do like that. OUR Dr John. Let’s see what he’s getting up to. Shall we?” Sherlock smirks as he lifts his Belfast coat to swing it on. Ford has an identical coat. Though the coats are exactly alike the twins can tell each from another.

Finding John Watson isn’t difficult. Keeping him under surveillance is another matter entirely.

(-_-)

Mycroft has once again inserted himself into John’s schedule. 

“Not sure contacting the twins was an inherently intelligent decision?” 

“They weren’t fooled. It was a tease. Something to get them to look at me.”

“Like the red chair that you placed in their sitting room?”

John looks up from the papers he is scanning. “You have cameras in their living quarters, do you?”

“It is difficult to keep observation on-going, as they detect and destroy new devices as fast as I can have them installed.”

“Is that necessary? Surely they...” Before John can finish.

“Believe me John. I’ve dealt with them from birth. They are too intelligent for their own good. I’ve had some of my top people throw their hands up in frustration over the machinations of the twins. When highly trained spies are baffled and bewildered, it leaves you with few options.”

John smiles knowingly. “Why don’t you leave everything to me. I’ve got a plan.”

“I hope it’s an outrageously righteous plan, John. You are up against two genius level minds.”

“World leaders have tried to sway me. Warlords have attempted to kill me. Despots have sought to dirty my reputation and name. I’ve been pitted against the worst in this world. Going against two mad genius’ will be like a walk in the park.”

(-_-)

Of course, Ford and Sherlock are listening in; of course they are.

“Cocky bastard, isn’t he.” Ford snorts.

“We’ll just have to take him up on his challenge.” Sherlock side eyes his brother. There is mischief in their eyes. The twinkle of merriment mixed with dark purpose.

(-_-)

The twins decide to have a bit of fun. They will devise a ‘catch and release’ scenario for Dr. John. Scare the living daylights out of him just to teach him who is the fish and who are the fishermen. A lark in the park they giggle to themselves. Putting one over on Dr. John and Mycroft for butting his hooked nose into their business. 

Setting up their snare is a matter of becoming acquainted with Dr. John’s patterns of behavior. Finding those areas where he is most vulnerable. While making sure that CCTV cameras in the area have problems at the most opportune time. It’s too easy. The twins could do this in their sleep, if they chose to. Everything is situated. The culmination of all their work is set. Mycroft is totally unaware of their motives due to a Kabuki dance of deceptions that they provide all over London proper. The homeless network is so invaluable in these types of situations. And then, of course, it all goes so horribly south, tits up and FUBAR all at the same time. Because the Puppet Master rears his ugly persona and snatches the good doctor from their deceptively simple trap.

(-_-)

“Well, that went completely mental! What the hell was the Puppet Master doing in the middle of our dog and pony show?” Sherlock is livid. Ford is fuming and Mycroft is going to kill someone. Several someones’.

“Do you KNOW what you’ve done here?” Mycroft is so upset that his normally pale facade is a terrible purple. “You two, have placed the ultimate World Citizen into the clutches of a serial killer who will kill Doctor John Watson without blinking an eye. How could you imbeciles even contemplated such idiocy!”

“In our defense...” Sherlock begins. 

“I am not interested in your thoughts, whatsoever. I want Dr. John found. Found now and found in pristine condition. There will be no other outcome to this situation! Understood?” Mycroft slams his umbrella tip into the floor with such force that an indentation is left behind. He turns on his heel and exits in a frosty storm.

Ford paces the sitting room at 221 B as Mrs. H comes through the open door. Tea and one home made cinnamon bun arrive with her.

“My, the attitude on that one.” Mrs. Hudson has brought tea the way her boys love it. One of her legendary cinnamon buns sits next to her tea. “John Watson is a friend of mine, gentlemen. You WILL bring him back to sit in this red chair.” Sitting in said red chair; she takes up the cinnamon bun. “Now drink your tea and get your ARSES out there.” 

The twins suck up their tea. Nearly falling over each other trying to get coated and get out of the flat. Mrs. Hudson sighs deeply. Sinking further into the red overstuffed chair, there is worry in the set of her body and a bitter caste to her face. Privy to the information her boys have on the Puppet Master; she is worried sick about John. “Please, John be okay. I know you are a survivor. You have to come home to us, please.” 

(-_-)

John’s body twitches. His eyes flicker as consciousness returns to him. Laying on the cold floor, his body comes back to him slowly. The gas administered to render him unconscious leaves his mind cloudy. Awareness tells him that he is in danger. Lifting himself up, he examines the room in which he is sequestered. It tells him little about his captor. Yet he knows this is not the twins doing. They are above this type of kidnapping. This smacks of a lessor sophistication and a purpose darker than they would provoke. 

Sitting up completely, he lets his brain settle more before he attempts to stand.

“Ah, I see my next victim is awake at last.” A mechanically enhanced voice reverberates in John’s cell.

Standing, he tests his limbs. Remaining in the same position. A parade rest that he is all too familiar with. 

“What, no questions, pithy comments. I’m devastated that you aren’t at all interested in your situation.”

“I’m quite aware of my situation. You, are the much sought after Puppet Master. Though I know now that you are the Puppet Mistress. You can drop you voice manipulation. It’s quite unnecessary.” 

“What gave me away?” A definitive female voice of low timbre fills the room.

“Being a strong female individual. You left traces of your cologne on my clothing as you lifted me into this room.”

“I’m wearing a men’s cologne.” Puppet Mistress croons.

“Yes, but the sweat beneath it is female.”

“So very intriguing that you’ve sussed me out when many others have failed.” 

“I’m known for my unique abilities. Now since I’m your next victim, what’s your process? I’m dying to know.” 

She can hear the cutting sarcasm in the tone of his voice.

“I’m not sure I want to rush into anything at the moment. This looks to be a delicious diversion for us both.”

(-_-)

Ford has the homeless net work on high alert. Sherlock is on line with their hacker network, Serpent’s Tooth, to make sure the script kitties are scratching. Mycroft’s people are not running around like chickens, they are running around like decapitated chicken’s in the hottest ghost pepper soup ever concocted.

Having eaten half of her legendary cinnamon bun. Mrs. H. gathers up the dishes from the sitting room and moves the tray down stairs for the wash up. She is determined to aide the cause. John must be brought home safely and she is going to do everything in her power to secure that outcome.

(-_-)

Quardis Smith is the Puppeteer. For years she has been extremely engaged in her ruse as a male serial killer. Her more recent main adversaries, the Holmes twins have offered up a unique and challenging diversion. Now, though, she has someone who might be even more tantalizing than the twins. This John Watson is utterly engaging and so lusciously, delightfully intelligent. A man of the world. That the world holds so dear. What fun they could have together? Bringing about his death could bring her to the world stage. The Puppeteer, who destroyed Dr. John. As the world waits hoping against hope that he will be saved by the genius Holmes Twins. Only to be brought low by the Puppet Master. 

She can hardly control herself. This murder will be a career changer. She knows now that she wants this to last as long as possible. Maybe she could even capture the genius twins. A brutal, barbaric threesome. The Press would have a feeding frenzy. The Puppet Master would be all that anyone would talk about for news cycle after news cycle.

Quardis Smith revels in the prospect. Blinking, her penetrating green eyes are watching the monitor that lets her see John Watson. “Oh what a prize you are my dear Watson. What a wonderful gift.”

(-_-)

Mrs. Hudson is on her mobile to one of her old ‘friends’. “Yes, love. I’d like to call in a favor. Oh, a full compliment of spooks please.”


	3. Connections connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherrinford and Sherlock are on the case. They must find John Watson. Mrs. Hudson is also hot on the trail. John must be pulled from the claws of the Puppet Master. Can they do it in time?

Sherlock and Ford are situated in their primary bolt hole; a tower room high above London. The world is aware of their desire for leads that will bring about the return of Dr. John.

“The Puppet Master will be beside himself. I’m sure he will want to exploit this abduction to reposition himself in the news cycles internationally. He’s all about the splash and fame.” Sherlock voice is icy with his contempt for the Puppet Master.

“It’s getting stronger.” Ford says as he stares out the window of the tower, onto the cityscape of London below. “I can feel him more with each passing hour.”

“Alright. I can feel him too. Let’s try to stay focused. We can’t let our connection to him impede our pursuit of the case.”

“Why can’t we use our connection to find him?” Ford turns to Sherlock. Their ghostly verdigris colored eyes spark as the idea sinks in.

“We’d have to amplify the link. Do whatever it takes to increase the strength so that we can find him ourselves.” Sherlock is definitely on board.

“We can use slope intercept. No, wait. You’re right amplification has to come first, then slope intercept. How do we strengthen the bond?”

“I know someone who might be able to get us there.” Ford pulls his mobile and taps out a text.

(-_-)

“Blue, this is my brother, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looks at the short, ancient female person whose ethnicity is not readily evident.

“So are you going to wavy your magic wand or better yet, cast a horrific spell to help us formulate a way to find John Watson?”

“Sherlock, a modicum of civility.” Ford stares daggers at Sherlock. 

Blue stands from her chair. “Please make yourselves comfortable.” A kettle goes off in the kitchen. Blue exits, returning shortly with a tea tray and biscuits. She serves aforementioned tea and biscuits to her guests. 

“You’ve both felt him.” It is not a question. Blue sips tea and takes a satisfying bite from her dark chocolate biscuit.

“Yes, we can feel him.” Ford sits forward, placing his tea down on a side table. “It’s urgent, he’s been abducted by the Puppet Master.” 

Sherlock renews his deductive scan of the person named Blue. Though he scans and scans and scans for the third time. Not much information is revealed.

Sherlock looks to Ford. “Sherrinford, what exactly does Blue do?”

“Nothing.” Blue states rather dryly.

Sherlock stands glaring at Blue and then Ford. “Then what the hell are we doing here, brother mine.”

“Blue, I think my dear brother needs a demonstration of your ‘nothing.’” Ford grins like the proverbial cat with cream on its whiskers.

Placing her tea down on the side table. Blue blinks, her breathing becoming an audible susurration. Closing her dark eyes. There is an almost smile upon her face; something reminiscent of the Mona Lisa. The silence in the room grows heavy. Pressing down upon its occupants like a weighted blanket.

Sherlock slowly sits back into his chair. Turning to Ford, the two brothers reach out to touch one another; finger tips coming together. Then they are back in the womb. A single ova determined to become two separate but identical beings. Swimming in a wash of memory and thought, Sherlock opens his eyes to find that he and Sherrinford’s fingers are firmly intertwined; hands gripping hard. As they often did as infants and as children. 

Sherrinford’s eyes are blazing with the images that have flashed before twin minds. A shared memory that neither one had access to before. Their ‘twin-ness’ has been strengthened. Hearts and minds merge at levels that they have not had the ability to affirm before. 

Blue opens her dark eyes as Sherlock turns to look at her. 

“What the hell?”

Sherrinford pulls gently on Sherlock’s hand. “Blue is like a battery. When connections are there, she can invigorate them to deeper levels.”

“And you didn’t bother to inform me about this person?” Sherlock is slightly affronted.

“I wasn’t sure you’d act any differently than you have today; with skepticism and contempt. Now, this emergency with John has made it imperative that we go there.”

As one they turn to Blue; their hands still firmly clasped. “Help us to connect to John Watson.” They say in unison.

“I think that you will have a more difficult time with that process.”

“Why so?” Ford asks concerned.

“Because you will have to each surrender your separate connections. Coming together without conflict to join with John.

“We were one once, weren’t we? How hard can it be to be one again?” Ford gives a knowing flick of his head in confidence. 

(-_-)

As it turns out, Blue is absolutely correct. She has amplified and strengthened the twin togetherness ten fold. Sending them back home with some essential oils and a list of steps to follow. Gingerly, they go back to 221B, navigating the stairs upward to their flat with extreme quietude. Mrs. H. must not be invoked at all costs.

Sherlock sets up an infuser filled with lavender and bergamot as the brothers sit in their respective chairs. Blue’s ‘nothing’ experience has changed Sherlock’s attitude completely. Physical closeness isn’t mandatory. It’s the melding of their minds that must happen before they can reach out to John.

“This should be child’s play. We just go back to the womb thing. Merge and reach out from there. Nothing could be easier.”

“Sherlock, let’s just follow the simple steps that Blue gave us, shall we? I doubt it will be a simple task. Though I would not mind if it could be. Have you felt his presence since our time with Blue?”

Sherlock leans back in his chair. “Now that you mention it, his presence isn’t what it was. You’ve been taking up most of the space in my head.”

“Well, let’s see if we can remedy that.”

(-_-)

Mrs. Hudson has been a busy bee. She’s got helpers in both of the Holmes’ networks that report to her. Her bribes of five star home made baked goods and/or envelopes filled with money go a long way to greasing the informant wheels. Her old cronies from back in the day still stay in touch which allows her to keep her fingers on the pulse of the dark underworld. With her feelers out there; her baked goods filling the apartment as well as large parts of Baker street with aromas that cause the salivary glands of everyone with a mouth to freak the hell out. She is gathering her own information about the Puppet Master. 

She may need her herbal soothers to help her get around. But getting to the bottom of where John Watson is, isn’t going to be beyond her grasp.

(-_-)

Sherrinford and Sherlock are moving their bodies rhythmically, coinciding with their breathing and heart beats. They are attempting to synchronize their thoughts and minds once again as they did within the range of the person known as Blue. They have been doing this for an unbelievable long time. 

Sherlock stops and rifles his long slender fingers through his riotous dark curls as he leans forward in his chair; elbows on knees. “It isn’t working, Ford.”

“We have to keep trying. We can’t give up.” Ford stares determinedly at Sherlock.

Petulantly Sherlock stares back. “Why was it so easy before and now I can’t even feel John at all?”

“I have no idea, but every minute we waste means another minute that the Puppet Master contemplates how to kill John.”

“I’m going to lay down on the floor and see if that helps.” Sherlock slips from chair to floor. 

Huffing out a breath, Sherrinford joins his brother as they begin again.

(-_-)

Mrs. Hudson’s mobile rings and she answers quickly. 

“Hello, well hello dear. Yes, I have been trying to get more information on this Puppet Master person. Oh, that is interesting isn’t it?” She sits at her kitchen table, pulling a pad and pen closer to herself.

“Can you repeat that slowly, dear. I’m an old bird and I’ve got a bit of hearing loss. Yes, that’s better.” 

Mrs. H writes out the information that her former co-worker, knock out exotic dancer and forensic accountant is listing. “Thanks so very much, love. Let’s say we are even now, aren’t we.” Smiling she hangs up the line. “Well, Puppet Master, I think I’ve got your number and you won’t be terrorizing the streets of London much longer.”

(-_-)

Sherlock and Sherrinford are gliding and floating in a miasma of memory and thought. Reaching out they grip each other with tiny embryonic hands. 

“Yes, it’s working.” Sherlock is ecstatic. 

“Let go, Sherlock. We have to be one. That one ova that we were at the beginning.” 

“I am quite aware of the concept.” Shrews Sherlock. His anger dissolves the link. “Shite.”

“Time, Sherlock. Let go. Let’s save John Watson.”

Falling. Like those dreams were you suddenly step off a cliff and fall toward the ground with incredible speed and are frozen in place at the same time. Two become one and the one is powerful. The tentacles of power reach out. Half of them warring against the other half. Reaching for John’s energy field.

“Together.” Twin voices serrate the air with a double baritone timbre. 

(-_-)

John stands at parade rest. The Puppet Mistress glares at him. Their conversation has proven futile. She wants to find the perfect way to display his coming death. This must be her crowning murder, the one that sets her apart from every other serial killer in history. This murder must be perfection.

John feels nauseous, his mouth watering, his stomach roiling. Stepping toward the closest wall, he leans heavily on it. “No.” He screams in terror. Collapsing to the ground before the eyes of his potential murderer. 

“What the hell?” Quardis Smith can feel the electricity in the room. “What the fucking hell?”


	4. Out of mind, out of body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a bit cracky. The twins want to connect with John and boy do they.

Lying on the floor, eyes closed, a thin line of drool exiting his mouth; John is not faking this unconsciousness. As Quardis Smith attempts to touch the fallen body; a fan of static electricity comes from John’s body to hers. Causing her to flinch away.

“Strangeness.” Quardis says to no one. Slowly, she backs out of the cell where John is being held. {What to do?} she thinks. {If he dies, I can still suspend him, but the cause of death will be what??}

(-_-)

“Did we just fucking kill him?” Sherlock is standing, shaking in his bespoke Italian shoes. 

Ford looks completely distraught. His dark curly hair thrown about his angelic face in disarray. Standing, coming close he grabs hold of Sherlock and clings to his twin for dear life.

“I have no idea. It was like we were there. All three of us in the same body. I’ve not felt that close to anyone, even you, brother mine.”

Sherlock grabs Sherrinford by the shoulders. “Think, you idiot. What do you remember about what you experienced. Describe everything you saw!”

Sherrinford starts to collapse and Sherlock directs him toward his chair. Sherlock pulls his chair close and scans his twin for data.

Both their hearts are racing, yet Sherrinford appears to be hyperventilating for some reason.

“Breathe, Ford. Slow down and breathe.” Sherlock places his elongated elegant hand over Fords chest and gently attempts to help him regulate his breathing.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Ford looks wide-eyed into Sherlock’s questioning face. “You and I were one. As we were in the womb. One ova, one person.”

“Yes, I don’t remember. It comes down to you, Ford.”

Ford sits back in his chair. Way back. His perceptive eyes opaque to a frosty grey. “We were in a holding cell. Standing at parade rest. Looking at a woman.” Ford takes a huge inhalation. “A woman, Sherlock. We have a woman serial killer! The rarest of the rare. She is tall, stronger than she looks. She wears men’s cologne. Dark hair, wears her hair thrown over her face, so that it’s obscured, but I can draw what I’ve seen. Pencil and paper, John. I’ve got to get this down on paper.”

Sherlock snaps paper and pencil into Ford’s hands. “JOHN? Why did you just call me John?”

Sherrinford looks away from Sherlock, then back again. “I don’t know. It’s like he’s here with us.”

(-_-)

Mrs. H has been doing her thing. Which means she has her fingers in multiple pies. Literally and figuratively. There are many delicious pies cooling on her kitchen table. While they cooled, she plotted her next move. Critical information is on its way to her. She is trying to decide whether to get the twins involved now or wait til she has the full information in hand. The boys are smart, no doubt about that, but reckless at times and incapable of taking care of themselves. She worries constantly.

(-_-)

John woke, knowing immediately that something was completely out of sync. No longer in the cell of the serial murderer, he didn’t know where he was. He pressed his hands against the floor to lift himself up. There were no hands or floor. Looking down, he has no body. There is emptiness around him. Yet, he can feel that he was surrounded by the presence of someone. Never having encountered such a state. He sits quietly trying to remember what happened.

Suddenly, he feels someone grip his arms. Gently pressing him into a chair. Yet there is no chair. No arms visible to grip his.

“Hello, is someone there? Hello? Can you hear me? I’m John Watson. I’m here.” His vision clears instantaneously and he is looking into the eyes of Sherlock Holmes who is handing him a pencil and pad of paper.

Ford gasps, blinking madly; twitching in his skin. “Sherlock, John Watson is in my bloody head!”

Sherlock, skepticism radiating from his eyes, squints at his older brother in complete disbelief.

“Ford, this is no time of fun and games.”

“I’m not gaming you, Sherlock. We MADE the connection. He’s here.”

“I am here.” John Watson’s voice is emanating from inside the twin’s heads.

Sherlock’s eyes bug out and he scrambles his inky locks with his trembling hands. “How the fuc...”

“The Puppet Master kidnapped me. She was trying to think of how to display me in her next kill site, when the world exploded and I lost consciousness. What did you two do?”

“We were attempting to locate you through our connection to you.”

“So you felt it too. I thought it was just me.” John’s voice is soothing to the twins. “This is totally mental. I hope I survive this, what ever the hell this is?”

“Do you know where you are, John?” Ford’s voice is steady and back to business calm. 

“No idea. Am I stuck in your heads now? What happens to my body?” 

“We have no clue.” Sherlock looks more than mildly perturbed. “We were attempting to locate you, not relocate you.”

“Okay, we have to garner as much information from John as he can give us. Then getting him back in his body is imperative.” Ford has his mobile in hand, speed texting Blue to see if she can help them.

“Any joy?” Sherlock inquires. 

“No, Blue has no knowledge of what we are experiencing. We are on our own.”

John feels tension between the twins. “I’m okay with whatever happens. I know the two of you will do everything you can to remedy this situation.”

“We appreciate your vote of confidence, John. We have to admit, up front, that we are responsible for this fiasco. Our plan was to give you a fright, not hand you over to the Puppet Master done up in a red ribbon.” 

Sherlock and Sherrinford are genuinely distraught about the turn of events. 

“Gentlemen, we have work to do. Let’s get to it.” John is not going to let them wallow in their guilt. Neither is he going to forgive their childish acts immediately either.

The twins have taken in all the information that John can remember. Now they are recreating the conditions that originated John’s appearance. They are desperate to get him back into his body.

Breathing, relaxing, focusing on merging once again. They can feel their momentum; they are almost there. When the crackle of electricity fills the air. Sherlock and Sherrinford convulse with the electrical charge that pulses through their bodies.

Sherrinford is the first to come to his senses. “John. JOHN!” A voice doesn’t answer.

Sherlock is picking himself off his chair and wobbling to the fire place. Both he and Ford are still momentarily stunned. 

“She tasered John.” Ford angrily swipes his face with his still trembling hands. “We are going to have to obliterate this woman when we find her.”

“We have to find her first.” Sherlock’s face is even more wrath filled than Ford’s. 

Ford stands, he and Sherlock step towards each other, clasping hands, intertwining fingers, hands gripping tight. Their twin-ness is strong. Together they merge, leaning till their foreheads touch. A huge breath fills their lungs. Their eyes frost over as the sharp edge of their minds convenes in the one Mind Palace that they both inhabit.

(-_-)

Quardis Smith stands over John. He is slowly emerging back to consciousness. 

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you went. Prone to blackouts during times of stress, are we?”

Lifting himself from the floor. He looks up to his captor, leaning upon the closest wall.

“Something like that.” He swipes the spittle from his mouth and touches the tender spot on his rib cage where Smith had tasered him.

“I’m so glad you are back. Sorry to taser and run, but I have to go start the logistics for your imminent death and flamboyant display of your dead body by the Puppet Master.

She does a happy prance to the door and slams it shut behind her.

John closes his eyes; a tender smile begins to inhabit his thin lips.


	5. Making Mind Palace Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saving John. Hudders and the Homeless network work. The Puppet Mistress strikes to kill. John 'in charge' Watson. Who will save Sherrinford and Sherlock?

John Watson has been inside the psyche of the twins. It has blown his mind. He’d never thought he had any kind of psychic abilities; yet he has lived through this unbelievable experience. Looking around he is here in the Puppet Master’s cell, yet he is also in a palace. A place of strange logic, breathtaking beauty and so much accumulated knowledge that it, too, boggles his many times boggled mind.

“Hello?” His voice reverberates in the high ceilings and long halls filled to capacity with books, tapes, hard drives and objects that he can not fathom. This has everything to do with Sherlock and Sherrinford. “Sherlock, Ford?”

John stands still, extending mental tendrils to focus on his ‘boys’. Shaking his head he’s so not sure what the hell he’s doing, but he’s getting good at it. Following a mental trail he winds his way into the labyrinth of rooms and comes upon an entire wing that has his name carved into the arch above the ornate double doors. Entering inside he finds the twins with their backs to him.

“So, what is this place and what the bloody hell is my name doing...” John’s jaw drops as he comes into the rotunda that is dominated by images of him plastered everywhere. Not just images from the real world but what appears to be fantasy situations that involve John with Sherrinford and Sherlock in rather intimate settings. 

“John!” the twins turn as one toward the object of their obsession. Like children caught out; they both look flustered, red faced. Instantaneously the huge room blanks out; all images disappearing. 

“So, I take it this is somewhere I’m not supposed to be? This isn’t the real world is it?”

The twins look at each other, huff out twin shaky breaths, look at their bespoke shoes then look back up to John.

“We should have known you’d show up here. This is our Mind Palace. It’s a mental extrapolation, where we keep all our facts, figures and over all knowledge banks.” Sherrinford stands, straightening his already straight suit jacket.

“So I take up a large part of your ‘Mind Palace’? Where I’m not only a superstar with my own super sized wing, but the sexual fantasy of your dreams? How very flattering.” John crosses his arms over his chest and gives his head a little tilt. 

The twins find him adorable.

“I thought we’d placed you back in your body?” Sherlock queries as he steps forward.

“I AM back in my body. It appears that I can now access your ‘Mind Palace’ with the greatest of ease as well as inhabit my flesh body.”

“You know what this means, Sherlock? We can slope intercept now. We can find him by using our ‘connection’ to him.” 

“How long will that take?” John’s sarcasm falls away.   
(-_-)

Familiar foot steps mount the stairs to 221B. 

“Woo hoo.” She titters as Mrs. Hudson enters their apartment.

Sherrinford and Sherlock know Mrs. Hudson’s has what they need.

“Boys, I have some very interesting information for you.” 

Sherlock and Ford look to one another. They can tell immediately that she has much more than that.

(-_-)

John turns round in the cell that he is imprisoned in. Observations have been dramatically altered since he’s been immersed in the minds of his mad genius’. When did they become ‘his’, yet they very much are, definitely ‘his’. He views again the erotica on the walls of the Mind Palace, the men inside his head and his body. Shutting down those thoughts. Later, much later. Now is the time for action. Release from his prison. Averting his murder and finding his way back to his Holmes’ twins. The yearning to be with them is like a physical ache within him. 

Focus. Focus. Focus. The walls of the cell seem uniform enough. Yet there is a slight scent of new paint. Why would the cell be recently painted? Now he begins a tactical examination. Ah, there a slight deformity in one corner. Painted to disguise a wall deteriorating due to age. Pushing in with all his strength. Hah! The wall can be forced to buckle. He scans the cell to see if he can determine if there is any security cameras. Nothing visible. Pressing the parts of the wall that give into the adjacent space, he makes the hole larger and larger. Not being a large man has its perks. Once he has an opening he scrambles through it to the other side. 

Triumph. No time to celebrate. Standing in the dim shadows of a larger room. The ancient building is dark, dank and cold. There is a doorway with no apparent door. Freedom. Moving quickly and purposefully toward his complete freedom and the men who have taken a large part of his heart in their long elegant hands. John must find his way to them both. 

(-_-)

“It’s a female serial killer, Ford. What a rare find. This is going to be a fascinating case.” 

Ford whacks Sherlock on the shoulder. “Concentrate. We have to save John; catch her before she kills him, then we can revel in our victory once the case is closed.”

Sherlock and Sherrinford suddenly freeze in time and space. 

“He’s on the move! How the hell? This is going to make things more dodgy.” Sherlock groans.

“Contact Lestrade and get Mycroft on the line.” Ford demands. “I’ve got to keep working on this lead that Hudders gave us.”

Sherlock speed dials and conference calls Lestrade and their brother dear, Mycroft. 

“He’s excited. Coming to find us.” Sherlock is ecstatic.

Sherrinford keeps at his computer. The Homeless Network has brought him whispers and rumors about a really bad actor (possibly the Puppet Master) whom everyone knows to avoid with some indicators of where they think this person can be found at certain times. Hudders has brought them information about an individual who traffics in all things illegal as long as the profit is high, no matter the risk. There are factors in both sets of information that coincide. The universe is rarely so lazy, Mycroft had uttered once. Coincidence? Coincidence.

“We have you.” Ford puts on his game face as he turns to his twin brother.

(-_-)

John is moving as quickly as his stealth mode will allow him. The air breezing through the broken windows of the old building is filled with moisture of a recent rain. John is totally aware of his surroundings. Senses afire.

“Leaving so soon.” A female voice croons.

John turns crouching down in a defensive position.

“I’ve got places to go and people to meet.” There is defiance in his every word.

Smith emerges from the shadows a hand gun pointed at John. He smirks ever so slightly.

“What’s so funny, Dr. John?”

“You are.”

“Explain.”

“You are a serial killer who doesn’t know how to kill with a gun.”

Quardis grins. “Oh, really?”

John steps toward the Puppet Master. She aims at his advancing legs, attempting to shoot, but the safety on the gun has only been partially disengaged. 

With a toe kick John dislodges the gun from her hand. Then he applies a forceful blow to her jaw with strike from his palm. He sees the jaw deform as it brakes. Smith collapsed from the pain.

“I think we’re even then. Though I think the break will give you a lot more trouble than that taser you gave me.”

(-_-)

Sherrinford’s mobile rings. It is a blocked number. 

“Holmes.” He speaks into his mobile.

“You ARE on you way to the old Candle Bridge factory?” John’s voice is happy as he speaks from Smith’s mobile.

“JOHN! How the hell? You are there aren’t you? We’ve been worried sick.” Ford is beside himself with elation.

“I knew you’d be there.” Sherlock interjects, talking at Fords mobile as he’s driving. “I was ninety-eight per cent sure of it.”

“Well, hurry up. Bring the Yarders and some medics with you.”

“John, are you hurt? We can’t feel that.” Ford grips his mobile as if he can hold onto John though the network.

The twin’s hearts are pounding with anxiety. 

“No, I’m fine. Your serial killer is out cold and has a broken jaw. Which will require expert medical attention. I’m not going to touch her since it was I who caused her injury.”

Sherlock puts the auto into hyper drive as he hands free calls Lestrade to haul arse even more than his first call and make sure an ambulance is coming, while Ford keeps John on his line.

“We will be there in 10 minutes. Lestrade and EMT’s will be right behind us. Do you know in which part of the old factory you are in?” Ford asks.

“Northwestern end. Shouldn’t be hard to get in; this place is falling apart. How the hell did you two find me? Did you trace me through our ‘link’?”

“Part our link, part Mrs. Hudson’s own dark web info and the Homeless Network’s sniffing around for the killer. So it’s been a hodgepodge of elements. We’re both thrilled that you are alright.” Sherlock answers.

“Not to worry. I’ll always find my way back to you two. Always.” The twins can hear the promise and the commitment in John’s words.

The twins breath out as one. John’s simple words enfold their souls and crack their here-to-for impenetrable hearts. They love him. They know this on every level of their existence. They love him for some unknowable reason. 

Sherlock breaks, parking their car close to northwestern part of the ancient building. 

The twins exit the rental, slamming the car doors as they rush into the building. Looking for their John. Entering the building, following his energy, they get closer and closer to him.

There he is running towards them. Coming together the twins lift John off his feet with a hug that squeezes him to within an inch of his life.

Their eyes are leaking, tears of relief, joy and recognition. They know that they belong together.

“Down.” John requests.

They place him on his feet. Gently, he uses his finger tips to ease away their tears. Each twin comes in to kiss John on a cheek. He places an arm around each of their necks and pulls them in to receive a searing kiss. This is going to be something that they will have to come back to. Urgently! 

Now the Yarder’s and the EMT’s are arriving and there is general chaos and commotion. John leads them back to where he left Quardis Smith. She is gone.

“I tied her up. I left her right here.” John is dumbfounded. She wasn’t in any condition to be roving around.”

“So ‘kay mate, Donovan get a perimeter set up. Lets catch this Puppet Master.” Lestrade signals his team. 

“Puppet Mistress.” Sherlock corrects. He hands his mobile over to Lestrade with a copy of Ford’s sketch of the Puppet Mistress. Donovan comes in, clicking a copy of the sketch on her mobile to send to her people. 

“On it.” She states as she steps away to coordinate the hunt. 

“John, you should go to hospital? Get yourself checked out.” Lestrade shows his concern.

“We’ll take him.” Sherrinford volunteers. Both he and Sherlock feel terribly responsible for this whole clusterfuck. It was their original idea to spook John that lead him to be captured and kidnapped by Quardis Smith.

“Get him outta here then. We’ll track you down when we need the paper work done.” Lestrade turns to get into the hard work of collecting evidence from this rather large crime scene. He turns for just a second. “Good work, you two.”

Arm in arm, Sherlock and Sherrinford escort John to their auto. The silence between them is comfortable, joyous and jubilant. 

(-_-)

The A & E is abysmal, time consuming and tedious. Finally the trio exits the halls of healing and head back to 221B for some much needed time together.

Like magnets they are drawn together. Sitting on the couch, arms encircling, lips kissing. It’s intoxicating. Tantalizing. 

“You have to move in with us. You have to be with us.” Sherrinford starts. 

“Be together. Yes. I know.” John smiles at them. “I agree. You have no idea how much this is going to change our lives, my dears.”

“We are up for a world change.” The twins say in unison. 

“First, though, we have to capture the Puppet Mistress. She is still a threat to you, John. You not only bested her, you’ve outed her to the world.” Ford makes their priorities clear.

Ford’s mobile chimes. He notes the caller and places it on speaker.

“Everyone can relax now. We’ve caught Quardis Smith.” Lestrade announces. “She turned herself in to get medical attention. We had all the A & E’s on alert. She just waltzed right into our hands. So we can all breath easier now. Nice work Dr. John. A serial killer behind bars; her Puppet Master days are over. I’ll need you all to come in bright and early we have a ton of paper work and debriefing to do. We’ll see you tomorrow then. Ta for now.” 

The twins look to John. There is still a trace of something akin to worry on his beautiful face.

“What is it?” Sherlock takes John’s left hand in his as Ford takes his right hand.

“I won’t be completely satisfied until she is locked up for good. We lucked out this time. Her inexperience with guns saved my skin.”

“Listen, John. We don’t have to worry about her for now.” Sherlock comes in for a delicious kiss. Hoping to take John’s mind off Smith.

“That’s not all that is on my mind. I’m thinking of purchasing the house on either side of this one. With Mrs. Hudson’s approval, we will expand our home outward. I’m going to need to keep you two in sight as well as manage the world organizations that I am in charge of. Life is going to get very complicated and very fun and very full of sexy times.”

The twins look gobsmacked. Now they are all standing in the John Watson wing of the Mind Palace. This time the walls are plastered with sexual visions of John; as he is large and in charge of their orgasmic pleasures. 

John pulls two comfy chairs out of thin air, scooping up his two lovers as they collapse onto the plush surfaces.

The twins are wild eyed and slack jawed.

“I think we’ve met our match.” Sherrinford exclaims in utter amazement.

“Absobloodylootely.” Sherlock exhales in complete compliance with his twin brother.


End file.
